


A World of Prompts

by Stella_Sirius



Category: Saint Seiya, 聖闘士星矢: 冥王神話 | Saint Seiya: The Lost Canvas, 聖闘士星矢: 黄金魂 | Saint Seiya: Soul of Gold
Genre: Angst, Dohko is a troll, Everybody Lives, Fluff, Friendship, Mentions of Blood, Mentions of Death, Missing Moments, Multi, Normal lives AU, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Platonic Relationships, Pre-Canon, Prompts and Requests, Romance, for them it's quite a calculated risk but still, lots of snark
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-10
Updated: 2017-10-14
Packaged: 2019-01-15 17:02:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 6,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12325185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stella_Sirius/pseuds/Stella_Sirius
Summary: Collection of one-shots written for various prompt challenges on Tumblr.





	1. Chapter 1

**“** **Please don’t make me socialize.” (Aries Mu, Virgo Shaka - Everybody lives AU)**

 

Mu sighed, his fingers rubbing his right temple. He knew Shaka had never been someone to act outgoing, but _this_ was honestly too much.

“Shaka. We’ve been revived and Athena wants to celebrate it. You _really_ mean to stay all closed up in your House because you don’t want to socialize with people you’ve known your whole life?”

The answer came too fast for the Aries’ liking.

“Yes.”

Mu’s eyes narrowed in suspicion.

“You’re being childish, Virgo.”

The oh-so-peaceful Indian Saint’s voice cracked in obvious touchiness behind the door.

“I’m NOT childish!”

“Yes, you are.”

“Am not!”

“Are too! And this banter will only confirm my statement and you know that!”

There was silence on the other side. A pretty angry silence.

 

Mu’s forehead collided softly with the intricately carved door that faced him and sighed again. This was going to be harder than expected.

Shaka had been behaving in a strange way since they’d woken up, spending all his time inside the Sixth House and not talking with anyone but him – and sometimes not even with him.

The Aries Saint couldn’t understand such a behaviour. What on earth was wrong with his friend?!

“Are you even going to give me an explanation for this refusal of yours?” He asked, softening his tone.

It seemed like his question wasn’t going to get answered.

Then, the door opened slightly and Shaka’s slender figure appeared behind the slit.

“Come in.” Said the blond, in a low voice.

Mu crossed the door, entering the hidden garden of the Twin Sala trees. A soft breeze caressed his hair and clothes, and the sweet smell of flowers reached his nostrils. He followed his friend under the trees, sitting in front of him, legs crossed and eyes half-closed.

After what seemed like endless minutes, Mu was going to speak again when Shaka preceded him by finally opening his mouth.

“I wasn’t supposed to keep living. My time in this life was meant to end during the Holy War… I’d known that since I was a child, I was _ready_ for it. My soul was at peace when we destroyed the Wailing Wall at the cost of our lives…” He started, talking softly, almost without emotions.

Silence fell again and Mu cleared his throat. “But…?”

“ _But_ ” Shaka’s voice took an upset undertone. “all of a sudden I feel my soul getting heavy again and I open my eyes feeling sore all over and in dire need of breathing, alive and back in my body, surrounded by the ruins of my Temple and my Cloth in tiny splinters in a corner. What was I supposed to think?!”

The man closest to the Gods released a heavy breath, his chest heaving down like he’d delivered himself of a great burden. “I feel like my life has no sense… I had reached my purpose for this incarnation, and now I’m back in the same form as before… what am I supposed to do?” He complained, his handsome face twisting in a sad expression.

 

Mu mused deeply over his friend’s problem before reaching out and smacking him slightly behind the head.

“OW! What was that for?” Shaka whined, rubbing his nape.

“ _That_ was because you think too much, my dear friend. Athena has gifted us a new life because she believed that we deserved it for our selfless service to her cause… she didn’t want us to throw it away mulling over the past! Why should you waste all this new time you’ve been given just because you’re too stubborn for your own good? Now get on your feet and put something decent on, I’m not taking no for an answer!”

Shaka’s eyebrow raised in skepticism. “Excuse me, how is my tunic not decent?”

“I meant your Gold Cloth, Shaka. Oh, and don’t you dare keeping a grudge because I dragged you out. You’re going to smile, be polite and answer when questioned! Agreed?”

Shaka huffed, but hid a tiny smile. “Agreed…”

 


	2. Chapter 2

**"doN’T GO TO WORK YOU ARE SICK” (Harpy Valentine, Wyvern Rhadamanthys)**

Valentine rubbed his eyebrows with his fingers, feeling terribly frustrated. He wanted to shout at his commander to just allow himself to be sick and stay in bed, but _no_ , the High and Mighty Wyvern Rhadamanthys would _never_ skip a work day!

“My Lord, please. You obviously have a fever...” He tried again for the third time in a few minutes.

And, for the third time in a row, the blond Specter just shook his head, a gesture that looked sloggier than usual due to the pain on his forehead. He tried to hide a grimace, but Valentine knew him too well to not notice it.

“I am perfectly fine, Valentine. Precede me to the courthouse, I want all the papers on the desk when I arrive.” He said, his voice cool but his jawline hard for his gritting teeth.

                                                               

Valentine of the Harpy was one of the most devoted Specters in Hades’ army. So devoted that through eras his feelings for his commander had transformed into deep and unconditional love.

But even loving him he couldn’t honestly _stand_ him when he got himself sick for too much working!

He squared his shoulders, took a deep breath and looked at Rhadamanthys with an adamantine stare.

 

“Sir. With all due respect, working while sick would make you less efficient.”

As expected, Rhadamanthys looked back with an incredulous – and slightly angry – stare.

“What do you mean ‘less efficient’, _Harpy_?”

“Exactly what it means, my Lord. You’re not in the right state of mind to keep yourself upright, let alone judge souls. Your desire to never disappoint our lord Hades is commendable, but working in these conditions is counterproductive for you, for the souls _and_ for our God. You should think about your health first. So, for the love of our queen Persephone, take an aspirin, go back to bed and STAY IN IT.”

There were a few moments of silence and staring, in which none of them dared to lower their eyes. Then, Rhadamanthys softened his expression and sighed tiredly.

“Alright...” He mumbled, slowly walking back to his room.

Valentine followed him inside, a couple of steps behind, preparing a glass of water and the medicine for his commander to take. When he heard the rustle of the covers on the bed, he turned and sat down beside the Wyvern, whose eyelids were already dropping, despite him trying desperately to keep them open.

“There, drink it” The Lieutenant murmured gently, helping him with the glass. Rhadamanthys grumbled something like ‘I don’t need your help’ but still accepted it. Then, he just let his blond head fall on the pillow, his eyes closing slowly.

Valentine smiled softly as the man he loved fell asleep, his head lulling to his right shoulder. He passed a hand through his soft, golden hair, in an instinctual gesture of affection.

“You stubborn man... I can’t even stay angry at you...” He whispered in a sigh.

He didn’t expect a mumble to answer him from the other Specter.

“What would I do without you, Val...?”

Valentine blushed violently, but took his hand and rubbed the strong knuckles with his thumb, causing a soft smile to appear on Rhadamanthys’ face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Valentine is, basically, a mother hen. Rhadamanthys can't fight it long - not that he wants to... ;)


	3. Chapter 3

**“Can I open my eyes yet?” (Rhadamanthys, Maeve - Normal Lives AU)**

 

The sound of soft, deep laughter answered her question.

“Not yet. Be patient!”

Rhadamanthys slowly guided her around some stones before she might collide against them. Maeve tried peeking from behind his fingers, but he stopped her from doing so by kissing her temple.

It was the second summer they were passing together and this time they had come to Eleusis to visit Rhadamanthys’ grandmother, the only member of his family she still had to be introduced to. Rhada had been a nervous wreck for the whole flight, scared that his Greek grandma wouldn’t approve of the woman he loved – like his paternal one had done, but he didn’t care about _that_ opinion, honestly.

He had undervalued Maeve’s charming abilities, however. His girlfriend had been absolutely magnificent in dealing with Thekla Demetriou, to the point that she’d taken him aside the night before to tell him that, despite her not being Greek, ‘Maeve was truly a gem and she was glad that he’d found her.’

He couldn’t have been any happier.

 

“Are you at least going to tell me where we’re going?” She asked, her words complaining but her voice laced with suppressed laughter.

“What would be the point of covering your eyes if I told you?” He retorted, a wide smile she couldn’t see on his face – not that she hadn’t learnt to _feel_ his smiles through his tone. “We’re almost there anyway. Just a few steps on your left...”

They finally stopped. Maeve took a deep breath and felt the smell of the sea and freshly mowed grass. The wind was pretty strong but not unpleasant, considering how hot it was that day.

“Ok. _Now_ you can open your eyes...” He whispered gently in her ear, taking his hands off her face.

Maeve’s eyelids fluttered open and she had to contain a small gasp.

They were on top of a small cliff that offered an extraordinary view of their surroundings. The Aegean Sea shone in different shades of blue under the scorching sun, the sky a dome of perfect azure. There were small ruins among the shortened grass, white and green merging together to give a canvas to small wild flowers that had survived the attack of the mower. Seagulls flew around in circles, calling each other loudly above the sound of the waves lazily crashing below them. The fresh _Meltemi_ blew all over, messing with her copper tresses and her light green summer dress. His linen shirt and golden locks were just as messy.

 

“So? Do you like it?” He asked, scanning her face to gauge any kind of reaction.

He received a beaming smile in answer. “It’s... _wonderful_! I love it! It looks so wild and yet... so peaceful...”

Rhadamanthys wrapped his arm around her narrow shoulders, resting his forehead on the top of her head.

“This is where Minos and I came to play alone when we came visiting Grandma in the summer. Our mothers would always be worried and tell us repeatedly not to do rash things and we mostly listened... well, _I_ listened to my mom, Minos has never been someone to obey... we tried diving from this cliff once and hadn’t it been for a passing fisherman we would have drowned, since we were seven and we didn’t enter the water quite... _correctly_.” He chuckled, shaking his head thinking about the recklessness of his seven-year-old self.

“I can’t even imagine the scare you must have given to your poor mother! I’d have never thought of you as a naughty boy!” She commented, hugging him around the waist and tilting her chin up to look at him in the eyes.

“Wouldn’t you really?” He replied, a very naughty smile on his lips, his amber eyes shining mischievously.

“Oh, yes... You’re a very, _very_ good boy...” She murmured, taking his chin between her fingers and dragging him gently towards her to kiss him.

They didn’t go back to the house until well after sunset and by that time, they’d both have a _fantastic_ memory to associate to that place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maeve is my OC for this 'Normal Lives AU'. She and Rhadamanthys are the outlet for my need of endless fluff. I hope you like them as much as I do. <3


	4. Chapter 4

**“I didn’t lose it, I just misplaced it.” (Pegasus Seiya, Unicorn Jabu)**

 

“This is the most ridiculous excuse I’ve ever heard in my life.” Jabu replied, hands on his hips, his eyes narrowed down to tiny slits as he glared at his comrade and rival – Ichi had called them _frenemies_ , but the Unicorn Saint would never allow such a word to escape his mouth. Ever.

“And you know lots about ridiculous excuses, don’t you?” Seiya retorted, not even glancing back to see the other Bronze Saint’s reaction, too occupied in moving whatever fell under his hands in his searching quest – be them paper sheets or pieces of furniture. The young man applied his battle philosophy, _“charge head on at full speed until you finally get through at some point”_ to his entire lifestyle.

No wonder his apartment was in constant disarray.

 

A few years ago Jabu would have kicked him in the gut for such an answer, but he thought he’d learned enough about self-control to just grit his teeth and let it slide. Most of the time, he’d found out, Seiya didn’t say that kind of things as means of insulting. He just had no filters between his brain and his mouth. And anxiety surely didn’t help his situation...

“How on Earth did you lose _a guitar_ , Seiya? It’s not exactly small, you know?” Jabu asked again, pinching the bridge of his nose with two fingers.

“That’s exactly why I said that I didn’t _lose_ it, genius. I simply don’t remember where I put it, that’s all.” Came the ruffled answer from inside the wardrobe. Jabu wondered why would he look there, but then told himself that the Pegasus Saint was capable of _anything_ , even putting his guitar in the wardrobe with his pants and t-shirts. The poor instrument would have ended up in the washing machine too, had it been small enough to pass through the opening.

“How can you be such a great warrior and then act like you’d lose your own head if it wasn’t attached to your neck?” He murmured, looking at his colleague with sincere perplexity. Seiya’s dark mop of hair appeared among a pile of bed covers and the Pegasus chocolate brown eyes shone with sudden hilarity. “Did I just perceive a hidden compliment in your last sentence, Jabu?”

Jabu turned his eyes away, his ears burning. “You obviously heard wrong, Se-”

He stopped in middle sentence.

 

“Well? What is it? The cat ate your tongue?” Seiya pressed him, disentangling himself from the sheets.

“No... I just found your guitar.” Replied the Unicorn, a seemingly peaceful smile gracing his face – the same smile that made Seiya’s hands itch with the desire to slap him, Jabu knew.

And he adored teasing him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These two always call for some good-hearted silliness.


	5. Chapter 5

**“…is that… is that my shirt” (Cancer Death Mask, Pisces Aphrodite)**

 

Death Mask had been sipping his coffee when he heard this sentence resonating in the kitchen. Resonating with an incredulous and _icy_ tone.

There were very few things in this world that could make Cancer Death Mask feel less sure of himself: one of them was Aphrodite’s voice getting so cold it could rival with Camus’ best attacks.

 

The Italian man turned to look at his companion, who was staring back at him with his expression bordering dangerously towards outrage. Had it been any other person, he would have just laughed and told them to fuck themselves, but not with Pisces.

“I have no idea. I got dressed in the dark so not to wake the _Sleeping Beauty_...” He answered, unable to keep himself from putting some sarcasm into his sentence.

The Swedish man’s eyes became icy slits.

“It was _not_ a question, Death Mask.”

 

Death Mask rolled his eyes, then slightly wiggled his shoulders to feel the linen on his back.

It felt far too nice for his usual cotton shirts... that was _silk_.

He turned to sniff at the collar.

_Acqua di Gio_.

Aphrodite’s favourite fragrance.

“Well, that would explain why it took me longer than usual to wear it.” He said, taking another sip from his mug.

He could feel Aphrodite’s stare drilling on the nape of his neck as if he wanted to just take his head off and smiled secretly behind the mug.

The Pisces Saint could be generous and loving to great levels, but there was one rule to respect: never, NEVER wear something out of his wardrobe. He’d just broken said rule, albeit involuntarily.

 

Death Mask _loved_ breaking the rules.

Especially when it meant getting his lover angry and ready to take revenge...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Death Mask is such a troll, omg.
> 
> Acqua di Gio is a men's fragrance from Armani.


	6. Chapter 6

**“You’re too young to hate the world”**

 

Ikki didn’t even know for sure what he was doing in Goro-Ho. He’d thought his brother and friends had been silly in travelling all the way to China to see ‘how Shiryu was doing’ – he’d been blinded, how good could he be doing? – but then he just found himself on Mount Lu, walking through the bamboo forest to reach the waterfall.

And now he was sitting on a rock with the old, withered man Shiryu called master. Not that his age gave him any right to judge his feelings, anyway.

“And how would you know, old man?” He grumbled, his low tones getting lost in the rumble of the waterfall.

“Please, _young man_ , call me Dohko.” The other one chuckled, causing Ikki to raise an eyebrow. “It doesn’t seem, but I’ve been young too. And I know that our lives are hard... I’ve been through it all myself.”

Ikki couldn’t stop a snort. “No offense, sir, but you don’t look like a warrior.”

Dohko looked at him with the corner of his eye, a quirky smile trembling under his moustache. “Looks deceive, Phoenix Ikki. You should have learned that after fighting alongside your brother... Shun, am I right?”

Ikki straightened suddenly. “How-?”

“As you said, I’m old. And I’ve seen many things, more than what most human beings will ever experience... and you remind me of somebody I’ve met in my youth. He was young, powerful, scarred and angry, _so angry_... just like you were, according to Shiryu. You don’t have much perspective, not that is your fault. The pain you’ve felt was great but it’s nothing that you can’t survive nor fight. Trust an old man!”

“What does this have to do with what you said earlier? That I’m too young to hate the world?” Ikki said, crouching forward and looking down the waterfall. There was something about Shiryu’s master that he couldn’t grasp.

“Hate is not a feeling  for the young. Concentrate on the good things you have and don’t let the darkness dominate. I think that’s your lesson for the day...” Dohko smiled, his eyes twinkling under the brim of his hat.

“You are strange, sir.” Ikki grumbled while standing up.

“That’s what happens when you spend so much time sitting down and thinking...” Dohko whispered to himself, not even bothering if the young Phoenix Saint was able to hear him or not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I said, Dohko is a troll alright. Ikki isn't one for talking circles and the old Libra is too complex for him!


	7. Chapter 7

**“My nightmares are usually about losing you”**

 

Rhadamanthys had never been one to express his feelings so openly, even to his most trusted companion. But past events had made it clear to him that sometimes, important things like these couldn’t be taken for granted for long.

That stormy night had just been the last straw, thinking about it.

Valentine looked at him with an intense gaze, apparently unsettled by the words his commander had uttered mere moments ago. Then, he sat beside him on the poster bed with a sigh, his slender fingers tracing abstract patterns on the silky sheets underneath. The Wyvern didn’t press him for a reply, easily imagining what kind of weight he’d just thrown on the Harpy’s narrow shoulders.

If he weren’t so confident about his lieutenant’s fighting skills he’d have to suppress the need to hug him tight and never let him go.

 

“Have these nightmares been going on for long, my Lord?” The Cypriot finally said, his voice low and gentle.

Rhadamanthys sighed heavily, his golden eyes looking at Valentine behind lowered eyelids. “Indeed. I believe they started after the second Holy War, if I remember correctly. They’re a nuisance I’ve had to come to terms with, but there are times... like this one, in which I have great difficulty in dealing with them.”

“I... I know that our demise is a calculated risk, but I can’t stop worrying about it, Valentine. Especially when it comes to you. You’re so important to me... I honestly don’t know what I would do without you by my side and... I’m sorry for not appreciating you enough.”

There. He’d said it.

 

He lowered his eyes to stare at his knees, feeling uncomfortably bare in front of his lieutenant. He’d needed to say those things from the bottom of his heart, but it didn’t stop him from feeling embarrassment.

Valentine swallowed, his heart thumping hard in his chest – how ironic, that it would do so only after he’d given up his mortal life to fight on Hades’ army – and a lump forming in his throat. He knew Rhadamanthys well enough to understand how difficult it must have been for him to tell him such things and he couldn’t be more grateful that he did.

The Harpy Specter reached out to take his beloved commander’s hand and leaned over to place a soft kiss on his cheek. When Rhadamanthys raised his gaze in surprise, he smiled gently.

“You have nothing to fear, Rhadamanthys. I’ll always be there for you... and don’t worry. I’ve never doubted you nor your feelings for me. All I want is being able to fight by your side.” He whispered, leaning his head on the Wyvern’s strong shoulder. He heard a sigh coming from his companion’s mouth, before the soft weight of Rhadamanthys’ head pressed over his temple.

“Stay with me tonight, Valentine. _Parakalò..._ ”

“Always, my Lord. _Always_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Never say that Valentine isn't always there for his commander.
> 
> Parakalò means 'please' in modern Greek. It also means 'you're welcome' in different contexts.


	8. Chapter 8

**“If you want, we could go together?” (Lyfia, Mizar Zeta Syd, Soul of Gold pre-canon)**

 

Lyfia raised her clear blue eyes to look at the short-haired God Warrior. She felt a surge of gratefulness towards him for offering to escort her around the palace.

“Thank you so much, sir!” She said, bending her knees in a slight bow. Syd smiled gently, gesturing for her to follow him. He kept his usually long stride in check so she could keep up with the pace.

“So. What brings you here in the Royal palace, Miss...?”

“Lyfia, Lord Mizar.” She introduced herself. “I was chosen by Queen Hilda to be one of her handmaidens and it’s my first day. I am greatly honoured by this...”

“It is a great honour indeed.” Syd replied, before noticing that she’d addressed him by his honorific even without him introducing himself. “How did you know I’m the Mizar God Warrior?” He asked, sincerely curious.

 

Lyfia’s pale cheeks reddened and her slender fingers started fidgeting in embarrassment. “Oh, well... I’ve been serving the family of Lord Gullinbursti for most of my life and their son, Frodi, told me about the armours and the respective honorifics, so... I simply recognized your Cloth.”

Syd smiled, nodding. “I know Frodi. He has potential, I’m sure he could be a good asset for our army if the need ever arises. And it’s a good advantage you have to know the armours already, it’s always important to know who you’re talking with. I’m sure you’ll be fine here.”

Lyfia beamed in sincere joy hearing those words. “I hope so too, Lord Mizar!”

Syd chuckled. “Please, Miss Lyfia. Syd will be fine.”

The blue-haired girl blushed but nodded, still with an excited smile on her face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had no idea what kind of honorifics they would use in Asgard, so I just went for the 'the star/robe is also the family name and God Warriors are, by principle, nobility of some kind'. Also, Lyfia is adorable.


	9. Chapter 9

**“There’s blood in your hands.” (Cancer Death Mask, Pisces Aphrodite)**

 

Death Mask had never heard Aphrodite’s voice getting a worried undertone. He’d come back from many missions dirty with dust and blood, but this time, the Pisces Saint had dragged him inside his House – he’d been headed to the Pope’s chambers to give his report before getting his well-deserved rest – and made him sit to clean him.

“Thanks for stating the obvious, Aphrodite.” He grumbled while the Swedish man took out the first aid kit and started wiping away the blood from his hands. “Why are you worrying about it anyway?”

Aphrodite didn’t even raise his eyes from the job. “In case you didn’t notice, you’re injured.”

The Cancer blinked. Twice.

 

“Oh.”

“Yeah, _‘oh’_.  And not just on the hands, even though these are the most visible. How do you even intend on showing up in front of the Pope in these conditions?” Aphrodite retorted, his voice hard as ice.

Death Mask felt a smirk growing on his face, while basking silently in his comrade’s ministrations. Aphrodite’s hands were skilful and soft and they felt good on his cuts, although he wouldn’t admit it with a gun pointed at the head.

“Aw, and here I was thinking you were worried about my health! You just don’t want me to make a bad impression to the boss!” He chuckled. “Or maybe you’re scared that I’ll leave traces on your pristine floor?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Death Mask!” Aphrodite hissed, finally raising his aquamarine eyes to glare at his colleague. “You’re reckless and completely underestimated the risks of this mission. I’m trying to make sure that you won’t start bleeding internally because you didn’t get clinical treatment and have a collapse!”

 

Silence fell in the Twelfth House. Death Mask was surprised by Aphrodite’s outburst.

“Woah.” He whispered, honestly amazed.

“I heard your Cosmos flicker. Don’t you _dare_ scaring me like that again. Am I clear?” The Pisces murmured, lightly caressing Death Mask’s tanned and dirty face.

The Italian man smiled roughly as he leaned over to touch the tip of Aphrodite’s nose with his own. “I’ll think about it, _mia bella fioraia_!”

Aphrodite grumbled in outrage at the nickname and wouldn’t stop even when Death Mask closed the distance between their mouths and kissed him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aphrodite cares for Death Mask, in his own way. The Cancer Saint knows and reciprocates - in his own, peculiar and asshole-ish, way.
> 
> 'Mia bella fioraia' means 'my beautiful flower-girl' in Italian.


	10. Chapter 10

**“Have I entered an alternate universe or did you really just crack a smile for me?”  (Capricorn El Cid, Sagittarius Sisyphos, TLC)**

 

At the Sanctuary, legend had it that Capricorn El Cid was expressionless. One would know that he was alive only because he walked, trained and, occasionally, talked.

If one were to ask about it to Sagittarius Sisyphos, however, such a notion would be thoroughly refuted as laughable – ‘ridiculous’ was too strong a word for the mild-mannered Saint.

Sisyphos was the stern Spaniard’s closest friend and considered himself a proficient in reading his expressions – El Cid was, in fact, quite _readable_ once you knew what to look at: his lips, his eyes and the lines of his forehead around the eyebrows were as clear as a dictionary – and so was his body posture. The problem, if one could call it so, was that his array of expressions didn’t cover the whole canvas of them. _Neutrally serene_ was his version of happy; smiles weren’t contemplated.

 

So, it was with quite some surprise that one day, after playing a particularly rough and silly game of tag with Regulus in the arena – officially to help him train his reflexes, but with a seven-year-old involved it sounded ridiculously close to an excuse – Sisyphos raised his eyes to see El Cid, sitting on the bleachers, looking thoroughly relaxed and smiling down at them.

It was small, just an upturning at the corner of the mouth, but it was unmistakably a _smile_.

Sisyphos blinked. Regulus, feeling his uncle going still, looked at him and promptly mimicked him, turning his cat-like stare towards El Cid.

“What’s so funny about my face?” The Capricorn asked, turning confused – a slight narrowing of his eyes, and his words pronounced with a heavier Spanish lilt.

“Have I entered an alternate universe or did you really just crack a smile for me?” Sisyphos answered, feeling his face stretch in a smile of his own.

El Cid raised an eyebrow, his dark eyes flashing in something extremely close to amusement – _‘oh, another new one!’_. “I believe, Sagittarius, that the correct preposition to use in this case would be _at_ you, since my source of smiling was you behaving like a toddler – one _younger_ than your nephew, that is.”

Sisyphos laughed, the gesture making him fall on his back on the sand, much to little Regulus’ confusion.

“Don’t play the grammar scholar with me, Cid! Just admit you were smiling!” He said, rising up on his elbows, his blue eyes twinkling.

El Cid cocked his head to the right, like a speculating cat. And then, he smiled _again_. “I don’t remember _ever_ denying it, Sisyphos… I _can_ smile, you know. I just reserve it for _very_ special situations.”

“And how is this special?” Came the reply, now positively baffled, from the golden archer.

“That, _mi compadre_ ,” El Cid said, raising from his seat in a fluid motion, and moving to leave, “is for _you_ to discover.”

El Cid wasn’t expressionless, but most assuredly _knew_ how to throw a punch line.

                                                                                                                                            

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a weakness for El Cid. And Sisyphos. They're ridiculously adorable, both alone and together.
> 
> 'mi compadre' means 'my mate' in Spanish.


	11. Chapter 11

**"No one needs to know.” (Capricorn Shura, Sagittarius Aiolos)**

 

Shura was many things. A ten-year-old, an orphan, a Spaniard who spoke Greek more fluently than his own language, and a Gold Saint. The ward of Capricorn, the guardian of Excalibur. He was the deliverer of Athena’s justice. He was aware of it, and bore his titles with pride and seriousness.

But most of all, Shura was a boy.

He was young and lanky, gaining two inches in stature every few months, an unruly mop of jet black hair sticking out from every corner of his head, his eyes still round but sharper than most adults’. Sometimes, that sharpness in his eyes made him look terribly old, as if he’d let his own childhood behind too early.

And as any boy, he had models.

The Goddess and her ideals. His predecessors. And Aiolos.

To him, the Sagittarius Saint was everything a Saint ought to be: powerful, generous, righteous, faithful. He brought justice where it was needed, showed forgiveness when true remorse was seen, helped and encouraged those under him. He was a beacon of light in a world of darkness, the road to follow in the midst of a maze. Aiolos seemed to be touched by the Gods, the spirit of Athena walking with him, Her hand guiding his actions.

Shura thought he was an angel.

 

But angels fall sometimes, if they fly too high. And models don’t always live up to expectations.

The young Capricorn hadn’t seen his model fall - he’d received the order to bring him down.

Never before had Shura wished that the responsibility of Excalibur wouldn’t belong to him, that it shouldn’t be his arm to cut Aiolos’ wings.

He stared into Aiolos’ eyes – those blue eyes that had looked down at him with pride and encouragement – and felt like crying.

He _tried_ to tell him to stop – that if he came back with him, maybe everything could be explained and pardoned – hadn’t Aiolos always said that Athena showed forgiveness when there was true repentance?

But Aiolos wasn’t repentant. Aiolos looked back squarely at him, and only said: “I can’t.”

Shura’s eyes stung with anger and disbelief when he took aim.

His arm shook slightly when he brought it down, making the cut on the ground jagged at the edges – it wasn’t as neat and clean as usual.

That was probably the reason why Aiolos escaped, bleeding and wounded, but still alive. Why he couldn’t bring his body back at the Sanctuary – he hadn’t been able to fulfill his duty completely. He was weak and faulty, like his model had been.

But Aiolos was dead. There were no witnesses of his weakness.

“No one needs to know”, he whispered to himself, swallowing the lump in his throat, trying to clean off the blood that had spattered on his Cloth.

_“No one needs to know.”_

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry. Seriously.
> 
> *goes sobbing in the corner*


	12. Chapter 12

**“This is without a doubt the stupidest plan you’ve ever had. Of course I’m in.” (Leo Aiolia, Scorpio Milo)**

 

“Aiolia, be so kind as to remind me how, _in the freaking name of all Olympus_ , we ended up in this situation.”

Milo’s voice was collected and even, but the clipped way in which he enunciated every syllable, as if pressing the consonants down with a hammer, was a clear indication of his anger.

Aiolia rolled his eyes. Milo was, as usual, being quite the drama queen. Who did he think they were, _damsels in distress_?

“We are in a _mission_ , Milo. It isn’t exactly a stroll in a sun-streaked meadow you’re promised when the Pope calls you in his receiving chambers, is it?” He replied, adding a side glare as good measure, but not daring to make any other move.

He could physically _feel_ Milo’s incredulity hit him on the side, although his comrade hardly moved a muscle.

“A mission we’re managing _splendidly_ , since we are surrounded by carnivorous plants with movement sensors that apparently have been sleeping in here waiting for food for centuries, as the _entirety_ of the indigenous population knew, but _somebody_ apparently _forgot_ to ask about!” Scorpio seethed, letting his attack nail grow redder and sharper as slowly as he could – the blasted things were, apparently, sensible to light speed movements, but not extremely slow ones.

Aiolia sported quite the magnificent slash on his right arm to prove for it.

“Well _excuse me_ if I didn’t expect the terror of the region to be plants – the way they spoke about it, it seemed perfectly reasonable that it would be an animal of some kind!” Aiolia retorted defensively. He saw Milo distinctly roll his eyes. The plants _hissed_ , and they both tensed, their Cosmos instinctively reaching out to each other, as if to form a compact front against the enemy.

 

“Any ideas about how to get out of this mess?” Aiolia whispered after a few heartbeats. No matter how rash he may seem, Milo actually was a good strategist – it was one of the reasons he and Aiolia actually worked so well together, despite the general incredulity at the idea.

“I may have one,” his comrade murmured back, looking extremely focused, “but I’m not sure you’re going to like it.”

Aiolia fought the urge to snort loudly. “I never _like_ your plans, Milo. That doesn’t mean they’re not effective – most of the time.”  

“We attack the plants together – at the same time, in completely opposite directions. They will react to the movement, but if we are perfectly synchronized, they won’t know where to attack first – and as soon as they react, we run. In a third direction. Hopefully, they’ll be so confused that we’ll escape unscathed – and if we attack strongly enough, we may even get rid of them at the same time.” The long-haired Greek explained, sending out some _Restriction_ waves to keep some green tendrils at bay from trying to _taste_ him.

Aiolia blinked. And didn’t answer.

 

“So? What do you think? You’re in?” Milo asked, getting a bit nervous at Leo’s silence.

“Mate,” Aiolia enunciated, his voice low and dragging the letters, “this is – without a doubt – the _stupidest_ plan you’ve _ever_ had. _Of course_ I’m in – one small chance of coming out alive is better than none, so I’ll take it.” He caught Milo’s cyan blue eyes staring at him with a smiling twinkle.

“ _But_ ,” he emphasized, staring at him with his own feline green ones, “if you die, I swear to Zeus I’m coming down to Cocytus, I’m bringing you back and I’m _killing_ you again.”

Milo smirked. “What if _you_ die, Lia?” He jabbed, flexing his knees ever so slowly to get ready.

Aiolia responded with the same smirk. “I expect you to do the same for me – if you don’t, I may just haunt all your dreams until you come down to fulfill your promise.” He replied in the same tone, his right fist closing at a snail’s pace, their Cosmos rising up in power like the lazy winter Sun.

“You on your right, me on my left?” Milo asked. “At my three?”

“Let’s get on with it.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I LOVE these idiots, bye.


	13. Chapter 13

**“We’re in the middle of a thunderstorm and you wanna stop and feel the rain?” (Griffon Minos, Garuda Aiacos)**

 

_“Aiacos is an idiot”_ Minos thought, eyes reduced to slits, teeth gnashing behind tightly pressed lips. _“A complete, utter, absolute, unbelievable IMBECILE – a prick, a dingbat, a-”_

“You’re listing insults in your head again, Minos.” Aiacos’ voice intruded his thoughts, like golden honey falling lazily on warm, buttered bread. “You know that’s not good for your _karma_ , right?”

The Griffon sniffed indignantly, sounding uncannily like an irritated cat. “ _Karma_ is the last of my problems at the moment, _Aiacos_.” He pressed on the name of his comrade, trying to drill a hole between his black locks with his golden glare.

A gust of wind sent a wet lock of his fringe splattering on his nose, and a growl escaped from his throat.

“Goodness, you’re starting to sound like Rhadamanthys… it must be pretty serious then!” Garuda laughed, turning his handsome face towards the sky, just as a crack of lightning filled the air with electricity and light.

“Pretty _serious_?!” Minos hissed, fists trembling at his sides with the effort of _not_ closing around the other Judge’s neck. “In case you didn’t notice, we’re _drenched_ , Aiacos! Does an even _remotely_ sensible thought _ever_ pass through that _chicken head_ of yours?!”

 

A purplish black iris lazily turned towards him, and Aiacos’ tone became faintly amused. “My, my, what a _temper_ we’ve got in here!” He smirked, watching with studied calmness how Minos’ complexion paled even more, while his eyes started to widen – _oh yes, he was reaching the far end of his tolerance!_

“We are in the middle _of a thunderstorm_ and you wanted to _stop to feel the RAIN?!_ ” Minos screeched, sounding a lot like the half-eagle of his totem creature.

Aiacos burst out laughing, and a second later Minos was at his neck, hell bent on strangling him. Since he was the shortest – and thinnest – of the Three Judges, Minos very rarely resorted to bodily violence, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

The Garuda Specter let himself fall down on his back on a patch of grass, but then blocked Minos from seriously hurting him. He smiled widely, white teeth glistening dangerously on his bronze skin.

“Stop smiling, Aiacos, I’m trying to murder you.” Minos said, sounding terribly business-like – it was always a bad sign with him.

“Why shouldn’t I? You’re exactly where I wanted you to be!” Aiacos replied cheerfully – his smile growing bigger at the flash of wariness that passed through Minos’ irises.

“Wha-?” He started, but was interrupted abruptly when Aiacos rose on his elbows and kissed him.

 

Thunder cracked above their heads.

“I’m going to kill you.” Minos murmured, still irritated.

Aiacos smirked again. “We’re already dead, Minos.”

A thin, starkly white eyebrow arched behind the Griffon’s fringe, and his eagle-like eyes flashed. “I’m a Judge of the Underworld. I’ll find a way – just give me some time…”

“And who am I to put a stop to your creativity?” Aiacos chuckled, his smirk now vaguely predatory, before turning his face up to kiss Minos again.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aiacos made me do this - everybody knows you don't get Minos wet. EVER.

**Author's Note:**

> An 'Everybody Lives' AU - Shaka just can't deal with coming back to life without reincarnating. Mu sets him right.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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